


Blood Flower

by ShadowedDarkness1230



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29508543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowedDarkness1230/pseuds/ShadowedDarkness1230
Summary: Harry Potter has never been one to want anything more than he is given. But over the summer of his third year, he begins to think about things and notices some inconsistencies that should not exist. After deeper exploration, he discovers a web of lies surrounding his past and decides that he needs some time to himself. Betrayal hurts the most when it comes from those who promise loyalty...
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter One

****

**Chapter One**

_It does not make sense!_ Harry Potter mutters to himself from a spot beneath his blankets, his eyes trailing over a letter from his godfather, the only family he has ever felt a connection to. _How could Dumbledore have been unaware of Sirius’ innocence? Not only did the man know him, but he had likely watched Sirius grow up alongside my father and mother. It should have been clear to him that Sirius could never betray them!_

Harry sighs, running a hand through his unruly black-as-night curls. Frustration is not an emotion Harry is used to feeling in such a quantity as he is now. For the first eleven years of his life, he was forced to compartmentalize every negative thing that was said and done to him.

_I just do not understand. How could Dumbledore not have known? He is considered the smartest and most powerful wizard since Merlin himself and yet he could not tell who betrayed my parents!?_

Harry shakes his head, back beginning to ache from holding himself at such an odd and unusual position. He lies back, resting his head on his pillow and placing the letter on the nightstand.

His eyes hurt slightly after the long night. Harry spent hours studying and then read his godfather’s letter over and over.

He continues to twirl his wand between his fingers, looking up at the ceiling of his room. _Maybe he truthfully fell for the act that Pettigrew created. It was quite convincing, I’ll give the rat that. And yet, I feel like there is more that I am not seeing…_

His thoughts trail off and he places his wand on the wooden nightstand next to the letter, removing his glasses a moment later.

He places his hands behind his head and looks up at the ceiling. He allows his eyelids to flutter closed, his mind still racing.

* * *

Harry places the letter down on his desk, a small smile appearing on his face. _The Quidditch World Cup._

Harry has never had the opportunity to attend such an event, having not had the knowledge nor the resources to make it to any sort of major game. To have the Weasleys include him in what is likely an already extremely tight budget merely so he can get out of the house for a bit causes a joyous smile to appear on his face. It is a new thing for him to have people that genuinely want to make him happy. He would gladly pay for his own ticket but knowing the Weasleys, they will likely insist to pay for him even if he has more Galleons in his trust fund than the Weasley family has had in generations combined.

He reads the last lines of the letter again.

_If you are agreeable, Dumbledore has acquiesced to my mother in an argument to allow you to attend the World Cup with us. He says you must go back after the game, though. Something about it being imperative to keep you safe._

_The date will be August 18th and I will be by to pick you up myself on the way to the portkey._

_Send your response back with the owl._

_I look forward to making your acquaintance!_

_Charlie Weasley_

Harry quickly inks up a firm acceptance of the offer, gently handing the letter to a waiting Hedwig where she sits on the edge of his open window. “This goes to Charlie Weasly, girl. Good luck.” He gently rubs the underside of her beak for a moment before the beautiful snowy owl launches herself into the air.

Harry turns and walks to the door of his room, opening it a moment later. A smile appears on his face as he walks down the stairs to inform his uncle and aunt of the development.

* * *

When August eighteenth finally arrives, Harry wakes up at the crack of dawn to prepare for Charlie’s arrival, eager to meet the second eldest, dragon-wrangling Weasley child.

He hears a crack outside of Privet Drive and quickly walks to the door, stepping outside and looking out into the cloudy day.

A tall man with long red curls walks toward him, dressed entirely in some kind of scaly black cloak. “And you must be Harry. It is nice to finally meet you.”

Harry smiles and nods, accepting a handshake from the man. “You too.”

“Have you apparated before?” Charlie asks. Harry shakes his head. Charlie nods, “Alright. I am going to be honest, it isn’t pleasant. If you are ready, I will place a hand on your shoulder. Are you ready?” Harry nods and Charlie places a hand on his shoulder. Harry feels as though he is being squeezed through a tiny tube as the air around him contacts.

The feeling vanishes a moment later when they reappear in a beautiful forest beneath a tall tree. A boy dressed in Hufflepuff colors jumps down from the tree. “Heya, Harry.”

Harry hesitates and the boy notices, “The name’s Cedric. I’m in Hufflepuff two years ahead of you.”

Harry nods and smiles, “It is nice to meet you, Cedric.”

The sound of loud chatter fills his ears and he turns. The entire Weasley family bustles toward them, all wearing either Ireland or Bulgaria colors. Harry doesn’t know much about professional Quidditch, other than a handful of the best players.

Royston Idlewind, Maximus Brankovitch, and, more recently, Victor Krum. Harry had heard about the young seeker from Ron many times and was curious to see how the man played.

“Alright, everyone!” Mister Weasley calls. “Gather round.”

Everyone walks over to a small black boot. “Place your hand on it,” Cedric whispers to Harry.

Harry nods his thanks and follows Cedric’s suggestion. A moment later, he feels as though his arm is getting ripped off of his body and then he is falling from high up. He decelerates himself by wishing himself to slow and rights himself, landing on his feet a little jarringly.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all land more roughly than he, none of them able to right themselves. “First time using a portkey?” Cedric asks him.

Harry nods. “I am impressed. It is not easy to learn to right one's self while free falling. Especially on your first attempt.”

Harry smiles again, “Thanks, Cedric.”

The boy nods, “No problem. See you later, Harry.”

“How did you do it?” Ron asks grumpily as he walks over to him.

“Do what? Land on my feet?”

“Yes.”

Harry grins, “Beginner’s luck?”  
Ron grumbles something under his breath before sighing. “I have used a portkey hundred times and I still cannot get myself to land on my feet.”

Harry pats his friend on the back sympathetically, “I am sure you will get it one day.”

He watches as Hermione walks side by side with Ginny, smiling slightly. _At least Ginny doesn’t seem to be reacting as strongly to me anymore._

* * *

The view from their seats at the top of the stadium is incredible. Hundreds of thousands of wizards are packed into the stadium, lining it from top to bottom. Fireworks burst in the air overhead, some of them green and silver and some of them red and yellow.

On the field, Harry can make out a group of scantly dressed cheerleaders dancing, their pale skin seeming to glow in the light of the fireworks and the thousands of camera flashes.

“Those are Veela, Harry,” Hermione states, drawing his attention. “They possess an aura about them that makes them nearly impossible to ignore.”

Harry cocks his head, “What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, his friend just points at Ron. His redheaded mate has a trail of drool dribbling out one corner of his mouth and his eyes are glazed as he looks down at the women through a pair of omninoculars.

Harry frowns, “Then why am I not affected?”

Hermione shrugs, “Beats me. I haven't exactly researched the Veela.”

Harry nods in understanding. They are silent for a moment before the crowd around them bursts to life. Harry turns his attention to the field, watching as both national teams get introduced. He takes out his own pair of omninoculars, zooming in on Victor Krum. The man looks far younger than Harry expected; he can’t be more than five years older than Harry himself, but he rides the broom with more confidence than Harry has ever seen before.

The match is incredible to watch and Harry cannot help the amazement he feels at the skill with which every player flies. When compared to most players at Hogwarts, Harry knows that he is better, but these players make him look like an amateur.

“Why did he catch it?” Ron complains as the Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry walk through the campsite back to their tent. Cedric and his father had left to go to their own tent and then attended the game at different seats. “I wanted Bulgaria to win, not them to lose because their own seeker caught the snitch too soon.”

Harry sighs, “He did the right thing, Ron. He knew his team wasn’t going to win so he decided to just end it on his terms. I would have done the same thing.”

Ron shakes his head, “But the game wasn’t over yet and Ireland’s seeker got injured on that last play. He could have let the snitch go and given his team a shot to still win.”

Harry sighs, “Ron, think about this logically. He knew his team was being overpowered by the chasers and beaters, not to mention a large differential in skill between the goalkeepers, and he wanted to end the game in a way he could control. As I said, I would have done the same thing in a heartbeat.”

Ron sighs, pausing and stepping to one side as a group of fans dressed in Ireland’s green colors rush by them. They enter the magically-enhanced tent and begin to settle down for the night.

* * *

“Get up! Now!” Arthur Weasley demands, his voice filling the tent. “Move!”

Harry is on his feet in moments, placing his glasses on and picking up his wand. “What is it?” Charlie asks, coming down from his room.

Arthur doesn’t answer, “Get back to the portkey! Go!”

Harry exits the tent quickly, eyes immediately finding fires beginning to eat up the campsite, tent by tent. Screams of terror fill the air and Harry sees a group of figures wearing pointed hoods and carrying torches. Light catches a reflection of a faceless silver mask. _Death Eaters._

He finds himself racing through ruined tents in an attempt to reach the portkey, wondering why apparation isn’t an option. It seems like it would be a sure way to safely get to safety.

Screams of horror fill the air and Harry is unable to stop a cry of shock when he sees a figure flung backward by a get of red energy.

It is then that Harry notices that he is alone, the Weasleys and Hermione nowhere in sight. He spins around in a circle, trying to gauge where he is. He catches a brief glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision but is too late to react. He is knocked off his feet by a jet of red light.

Harry collapses to the ground unconscious, unable to protect himself as the cloaked figure approaches. But even unconscious, Harry is not unprotected. The figure reaches out with one hand to attempt and touch Harry’s forehead where the scar resides, but the moment the gloved finger makes contact with Harry, he lets out a pained scream.

He collapses to the ground next to Harry, convulsing and trying to draw in air. But he can do nothing. He continues to choke, movements becoming more frantic and erratic. His chest bursts just below his ribcage, blood streaming out onto the ground. Rather than sinking into the ground, the blood travels up, wrapping itself around the man’s throat in a liquid form of a noose. The man begins to panic, mask falling off his face to reveal dark brown curls. Acting on its own, the blood enters his nose and mouth, cutting off all airflow to the man’s lungs. Finally, his movements stop, body falling limp. The man is dead, choked to death by his own blood.

That is how Harry is found minutes later; collapsed against a tent with a dead body lying right next to him. The sound of voices rouses Harry from his unconscious state and he slowly blinks his eyes open. They immediately find the famed mark of Voldemort and his Death Eaters where it floats in the sky, a skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth.

He slowly rolls over onto his side, eyes finding the corpse next to him. He scrambles back, just as a group of men with wands at the ready appear. Before Harry can say anything to the country, the men fire a barrage of spells toward him. He ducks, not knowing any other way to counteract the attack.

Arthur rushes to stand in front of the men a moment later, holding up his arms, “Stop!”

A man who appears to be in charge steps forward, “You have been discovered at the scene of a crime. What do you have to say for yourself?” He asks Harry.

Harry shakes his head, “You think I did this?”

“Why are you alone?” The man demands.

“He’s with me, Barty. And you cannot possibly think that he did this? This is Harry Potter.” Arthur responds for him.

‘Barty’ looks surprised to learn his identity and gestures with one hand to one of the wand-wielding men. “Check the body.”

Arthur turns to Harry, “What happened?”

Harry shakes his head, “I do not know. I was hit with a spell and knocked unconscious. I remember nothing after that.”

Arthur sighs but nods, “Let’s get you home. I am sorry, Harry. This is not how I imagined your first World Cup going.”

Harry just smiles softly, “You have nothing to apologize for. I am very grateful that you are your family thought to include me in this adventure.”

A sad smile appears on Arthur’s face, “You sound like your mother.”

Harry’s eyes widen at the mention of his mother but Arthur does not say another word. “Come on. Let’s go. The portkey awaits.”

* * *

Returning to his family is the exact opposite of what he wants to do but he allows Charlie to apparate him back to Privet Drive without complaining otherwise. He thanks the redhead and enters the house quietly, going up to his room.

He closes the door and takes out his wand, and opening his Charms textbook. He flips to where his bookmark is and continues reading, attempting to learn every spell he can before departing for the school.

Harry promised himself that he would never allow himself to be woefully unprepared for school again. He isn’t one that likes having to rely on someone else. For his whole childhood, the only person he could trust was himself. It was nice for the first few years of school to be able to rely on someone else but it isn’t a good idea as he knows he will fall further and further behind.

Besides, Harry could tell from the moment that the classes began to require magical prowess that Hermione was at a disadvantage. It was quite clear relatively quickly that she lacked the magical power that he has. That doesn’t mean she still wasn’t better than him. Because of Harry’s lack of effort, Hermione would usually still effortlessly out-spell him, no matter what.

And Ron, well, the boy cares far less than Harry about school and Harry can tell that if it wasn’t for his parents forcing him to go, Ron wouldn’t even be at the school.

A sigh leaves his lips as he returns his focus to the Transfiguration textbook. Harry had sent a letter to McGonagall days after summer began and asked her to send him the list of books he would need for the coming semester. He wanted to prepare.

He smiles slightly as he recalls the surprised tone that was clear in his professor’s writing as she provided him with the list.

He had then convinced his uncle to take him to Diagon Alley in exchange for Harry giving him some money. The moment his uncle learned that there was more money where it came from, Harry had been able to bribe him into more things that normally his uncle wouldn’t even consider.

So while he was at Diagon Alley, he had bought every book McGonagall said he would need and many others she never mentioned. He bought books for fifth, sixth, and seventh year Hogwarts students for every class, and since the moment summer began, he spent almost all day every day locked in his room with a book in hand.

He wondered what Ron would think if he knew what Harry now used every moment of his free time to do. It would likely horrify him. Hermione would likely be very proud of him.

Along with beginning to extensively research and study for every subject he has, Harry quickly realized that his memory was better than he thought it should be. He could take one long look at a piece of paper and memorize nearly every word written on it.

He was able to convince his aunt to let him borrow a dictionary and learned that he has what is called eidetic memory, meaning that he has a heightened ability to recall what he sees at a much higher rate of precision. This discovery made Harry greatly regret the negligence of his work for the first three years of his education.

Instead of being able to immediately play to move ahead of everyone else, he had to first play catchup so he could understand more. He was unable to cast any magic outside of school other than the traditional spells such as _lumos._ This greatly annoys him as it further indicates the disadvantage he has to students who live in the magical world. He can recall seeing both of the Weasley twins casting spells outside of Hogwarts before they were old enough for the trace to be removed and he had little doubt that Malfoy could do whatever he wanted because of who his father is.

So instead of working on perfecting his spell casting, he spent the entire summer reading many different books about the theory of magic. He quickly concluded that magic acted like a muscle, so the more you use it, the stronger your magical core grows. Harry was also able to connect the dots between purebloods and increased magical potential.

He realized that it wasn’t that the purebloods started with more power, it was that they used it more often and had more time to spend using magic. Because of this, their magical cores were stronger by the time they reached Hogwarts than any muggle-born or muggle-raised student could ever hope to be.

This was a surprising discovery to him and it made him wish more than ever that he didn’t live somewhere where he would be expelled for using magic. Harry began to wonder about Dumbledore’s logic for sending him somewhere where he not only could not grow stronger, but he also was hammered with mental and physical abuse for most of his life. It didn’t make sense to him that Dumbledore could have been unaware of either of those problems.

While dealing with these thoughts, he was still able to greatly progress his understanding of magic as a whole and it made him much more confident in his own capabilities.

Along with reading more about magic, he spent a great deal of time reading about Wizarding Law. He was able to find a book in an antique store in Diagon Alley about the Hogwarts Charter, a set of rules and guidelines that had existed since the school’s creation.

Harry quickly realized just how many rules he, Ron, and Hermione had broken in only their first three years at the school. It made him realize just how lucky he was that Dumbledore was Headmaster as many of the rules they had broken would warrant expulsion. But once rule stood out to him and left him confused and angry.

 _Section 7_ _(Situational Powers Given to Headmaster), Part J (Loss of Legal Guardians) - In the occurrence of a magical child losing his/her parents and all others who are named possible guardians, they shall be placed in the guardianship of the current Headmaster of Hogwarts until they reach the age of 17 when they will become emancipated. (Void if the Will of the deceased guardians presented alternatives)_

It was at that moment that Harry wondered about his parent’s will and why he had never seen it. It made little sense. In all likelihood, Harry’s parents had left a will as they had been fighting in a war. They knew their lives were at risk. And yet, he had never been told about its contents, or even of its existence.

This wasn’t the only thing that confused him. According to a recent version of the Ministry’s official _Book of Magical Law,_ it was entirely against the jurisdiction of Gringotts to withhold the will of any deceased from their immediate family, no matter their age. It was stated within the agreement between the Ministry and Gringotts that wills are considered prioritized documents and must be shared with immediate family members upon their first arrival at the bank following the deaths of the will’s writers.

That means that the day Harry went to the bank for the first time with Hagrid, he should have been shown the will. It shouldn’t have even been a question of if he wanted to see it, he was required to.

Harry also quickly realized that Dumbledore likely was well aware of every time he left Privet Drive and he began to notice hooded figures trailing after him during every walk he took out of the house. Originally, he was nervous to see unknown figures following him but he caught a glimpse of red hair and realized that one of the Weasleys must have been tasked with following him.

Because of his hesitation to fully place his trust in Dumbledore at the lack of a will-hearing, he decided that he wouldn’t make a special trip to Diagon Alley to go to Gringotts. Over winter break, he would travel to Diagon Alley to get new school supplies and would pretend to need more money. He was certain that Dumbledore did not intentionally keep him from his part’s will, likely just forgetting about it, but it didn’t make sense that the goblins didn’t share it with him upon his arrival.

The amount of reading he did made the summer pass by relatively quickly and Harry was immensely grateful for that. It felt good to know that he now had a way to enjoy his summers.

When September 1st finally arrives, Harry pays his uncle a few pounds to take him to the station and packs all of his books into his trunk. He spent some time to make sure everything he will need is in the trunk and ends up needing to use some time to learn the extension spell. He expanded the trunk beyond its physical restrictions, a spell that took him over a week to learn.

He thanks his aunt and uncle for their ‘hospitality’ before his departure and then shrinks his trunk so his uncle won’t get annoyed with him for stuffing a large amount of stuff into his car. Harry no longer ever keeps Hedwig within the cage, knowing that she would prefer to fly around in the sky. He doesn’t blame her, he misses flying on his broom more than almost anything.

A small smile appears on his face as his uncle backs the car out of the driveway of 4 Privet Drive. _I am going home._

* * *

Not a word is spoken as Harry exits his uncle’s car, as if an unspoken agreement was made to ignore the existence of the other. Harry does not mind and is grateful for the lack of words he receives.

He walks toward the platform, his trunk already shrunken down and stored carefully in his right pocket. He looks up, smiling when he sees Hedwig loop lazily around in the sky. The beautiful bird lets out a soft cry when she senses him looking at her and Harry smiles even more brightly.

“Oi, Harry!” He is drawn from his thoughts by the loud voice of his friend from mere meters away. “How was the end of your summer, mate?”

Harry turns to face the redhead, “It was fine.” He responds untruthfully. “How about yours?”

The redhead smiles, quickly launching into a recount of his entire summer. Harry allows himself to zone out, nodding along as his friend discusses different Quidditch matches he listened to.

“So what do you think, mate?” Ron’s question startles Harry as he turns to face the redhead.

“Sorry, Ron. What did you ask?”

Ron frowns, “Honestly, what is up with you, mate? You sure you are okay?”

Harry nods, “I’m fine. What was your question?”

Ron repeats himself, “What did you think of the World Cup? Can you believe those Death Eaters showed up?”

 _The short answer is yes._ Out loud, Harry nods, “It was crazy.”

Ron nods, “It really was.”

Silence falls over the two of them as they walk quickly to the brick wall in between platforms nine and ten. “Where are Ginny and the twins?”

Ron looks at Harry curiously, “On the train already, why?”

Harry shakes his head, “No reason. I was just wondering.”

Ron nods, obviously not caring enough to question Harry further. The two board the train and Harry places a hand on Ron’s shoulder, “Find a compartment, Ron. I’ll find you in a bit.”

Ron cocks his head, “Where are you going?”  
“I need a moment to think,” Harry responds immediately, turning and stepping out of the train and back onto the waiting cement.

As he walks toward the end of the platform, he looks up to the sky. A warm breeze brushes gently against his pale skin, a slow smile appearing on his face at the gentle contact. As he reaches the end of the platform, Harry notices a small, brown-haired girl looking around herself in confusion. He does not hesitate and walks directly over to her. “Excuse me. Are you lost?”

The girl turns to face him and Harry gasps, staggering backward a few steps. Her face is night and day. One half of the girl’s face is a clear, pale white, but the other half is burnt to a black crisp. The eye on that side of her head is gone, giving Harry a clear view directly into her skull. Her remaining eye glows a horrifying green, not unlike his own but filled with far more fury and anger. Harry looks around himself frantically, wondering how no one else notices her.

It is then that a cold shiver runs down his spine. He is alone. No one is on the platform anymore, not even a single adult. He hears the sound of rushing liquid and looks where he hears it.

Where the train once stood now flows a river of red liquid. It sloshes up onto the cement platform, dying the white to red. The smell of blood fills the air, tainting everything it touches.

Harry turns back to look at where the little girl stood and this time, he is unable to stop a choked scream that leaves his throat. Where the somewhat-human girl once stood, there is now nothing more than a skeleton with a glowing green eye.

A rasping, hissing voice echos across the now-empty platform. “ _Harry Potter._ ”

A bolt of lightning comes down from the sky, striking the skeleton and setting it ablaze with blue fire. Harry places his hands above his eyes to shield them from the bright flames in the dark environment. The flame suddenly shifts in color, becoming a dark red.

Harry closes his eye, wishing for it all to go away. The thrill of fear flowing down his spine is like nothing he has ever felt. Not even when he fought Professor Quirrell in first year or the Basilisk and Tom Riddle in second. Not even when he fought off hundreds of Dementors to save Sirius.

Harry slowly forces himself to open his eyes, gagging when he sees the skeleton looking directly at him. The only part of the girl’s body that is not burning is her green eye and it continues to stare directly at him. “ _Harry Potter._ ”

A frigid breeze accompanies the voice, causing Harry to shiver. “Wh-what are you?” He asks.

A laugh echoes across the platform, filled with so much malice that Harry flinches from the mere sound. “ _Harry Potter_.”

“What do yo-you want?” He demands, mustering the courage to speak again.

 _“Harry Potter._ ”

“Are you Voldemort?” He asks.

The feeling of the air grows colder around him, the pressure against his body increasing. Harry is forced down onto his knees, panting with pain at the seemingly increased gravity. “ _Do not compare us to Tom Riddle._ ”

“Us?” Harry mutters from his spot on his knees. “Who are you?”

The same laugh echoes across the platform again but he gets no response. The blood from the red river rises up, rushing toward him in a putrid wall of oozing liquid. It slams into him, knocking him onto his back and forcing the air out of his lungs. _“Soon enough._ ”

He chokes on the red liquid as it floods into his mouth and up his nose. The scent is worse than anything he has ever smelled in his life as it flows into his body and vanishes.

A moment later, a cool breeze blows through the station and Harry looks around. To his surprise, he sees the train is back in front of him once more, a whistle signaling its departure.

Harry breathes heavily, his heart still hammering in his chest. He runs his hands down his chest before reaching up and gently touching his face. He pulls back his hand and looks at it. There is no red liquid anywhere on his body. _I have gone mad…_

He is drawn out of his thoughts by the train lurching into motion. Harry acts quickly, leaping forward to board the train as it begins to move. His body is slammed into the wall behind the stairs as the train lurches forward. His breaths leave his mouth in gasps as his eyes dart around himself once more. “What the bloody hell was that?” He whispers to himself.

“Talking to ourselves now, are we Potter?” A distinctive drawl fills Harry’s ears. “Had a nightmare did we?”

Harry looks up, his green eyes meeting the amusement-filled grey ones of the Malfoy heir. Harry rises to his feet quickly, unable to stop his hands from shaking with fear and shock at what he saw. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Malfoy.”

The silver-haired boy laughs, “I am sure you do not. Well, see you at the feast, Potter! Do not let the— _festivities_ —ruin your seemingly enjoyable dream.”

Harry glares at the blonde as he walks past him, purposefully bumping his shoulder against his. He expects Draco to react in some way to the rude action but the Malfoy heir merely laughs again. “My my, are you shaking? Need me to call your mother for you, Potter?”

 _There is a line you do not cross._

Harry spins around, wand in hand, and before Draco can even blink, he is pinned to the wall of the train. “Say that again, Malfoy!” Harry snarls, glaring at the blonde.

Draco just smirks, “Do you need me to call your mother for you, Potter? It sure seems like little Harry could use a bedtime story.” Harry glares even more furiously at the boy as he continues. “What? You didn’t seriously think the likes of you could scare me, did you? I am a _Malfoy_ , for Merlin’s sake. And you, are a filthy half-blood who has found himself in a situation out of his depth.”

Harry cannot restrain his rage and before he knows what is happening, he slaps Malfoy’s pale cheek with the back of his hand. The blow snaps Draco’s head to one side for a moment, a gasp of surprise leaving the boy’s lips.

Harry watches in satisfaction as Draco presses a hand to the red mark already forming on his pale skin. “Do not ever speak about my mother again!” He orders furiously.

Malfoy just glares coldly at him, “You’ll pay for this, Potter.”

The blonde brushes past Harry to head for the door before turning around, “You might want to prepare yourself for this year. It will not be what you expect.”

It takes Harry a moment to collect himself and rein in his anger. He looks down at his hand, a sigh leaving his lips. _Well, there goes enjoying the welcome feast._

He turns and walks into the train, glancing through the windows in the doors of the compartments until he finds the one with Ron in it. He slides open the door and steps inside. The door slams shut behind him, drawing Ron and Hermione’s attention.

Harry soon finds himself wrapped in his brown-haired’s friend arms. “Harry! Where were you? We thought the train left you behind!”

“I needed to think,” Harry answers simply, not wanting to even begin to recall the— _vision?—_ that he saw on the platform. He is still extremely shaken by it.

He settles himself down on the side of the compartment opposite Ron and takes his trunk out of his pocket. He sets it on the cushioned bench next to him, turning to look at his friends. He finds both of their pairs of eyes staring at him. “What?” He questions.

Hermione looks at him in concern, “Are you sure you are okay, Harry? Ron said you missed a question he asked earlier, as well.”

Harry takes a deep breath. _No, I am not okay. I am going insane._ “Yes, Hermione. I am fine. What did you ask?”

She hesitates for a moment longer, her eyes still not leaving him. “I asked, what classes are you taking this semester?”

“I am not sure yet. I plan to talk with McGonagall when we reach the school.”

Hermione nods, “What class are you most looking forward to that you know for certain you are going to take?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. This school is so reliant on good teachers for a class to be good that I see no need to prematurely anticipate any class being enjoyable.” Harry states. “Though I am decently certain I will enjoy Transfiguration as well as aways. Charms as well.”

Hermione frowns but doesn’t deny what he says, “I agree with you about Transfiguration and Professor Flitwick does a great job keeping Charms interesting.”

She turns to Ron, “What about you?”

Ron shrugs, focused on a box of Chocolate Frogs that he must have purchased from the Trolley. “I don’t know.” He says, voice muffled by a mouthful of chocolate.

* * *

When the train nears Hogwarts, Ron and Harry step out of the compartment to allow Hermione to change into her robes. Harry casually gestures his wand at the windows of the compartment, making them dim so that no one can see within.

Ron doesn’t notice the little spell and Harry places his wand back into his sleeve. _I need to start using magic as much as I can. I need to test to see if it really is like a muscle and if it truly does increase based on use._

Once Hermione changes, he and Ron do the same. They arrive at Hogwarts moments later, the train coming to a stop. “Harry, where’s your trunk?”

Harry grins at Hermione’s question, pulling the shrunken brown trunk out of his pocket. Her eyes widen, “You shrunk it?”

Harry shrugs, “It wasn’t hard. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Hermione nods slowly, seemingly very surprised at the display from her usually underwhelming friend. Harry sighs. _I cannot believe I was such a bad student that Hermione is now impressed by me using a small, second-year spell._

They walk as a group to the carriages, Harry’s eyes fluttering to the beautiful creatures pulling them. The skeletal creatures move with an ethereal grace and Harry is glad he read enough to know what they are. _Thestrals. Wrongfully considered as dark creatures because they can only be seen by those who have witnessed death._

Without thinking, he gently reaches out and runs a hand down one’s spine. The creature lets out a rumbling hiss of content at the contact and Harry smiles. He hears an exclamation and turns to see Ron, Hermione, and Ginny looking at him weirdly. The girl next to Ginny just smiles at him, her silver hair pulled to one side of her head. He sighs, pulling back his hand as the creature lets out a low growl of disappointment.

“What were you doing, Harry?” Hermione questions, looking at him strangely.

“He was petting the Thestrals,” the silver-haired girl states dreamily. “Fascinating creatures, they are.”

Hermione cocks her head, “There is nothing there, Luna.”

Luna moves from her spot next to Ginny and sits next to Harry, her side brushing against him. She reaches out and gently begins to pet the other Thestral that Harry didn’t touch. _Luna. So that is her name_. “You can see them, too.” He says. It is not a question.

Luna nods, “Oh yes. I have been able to see them since my first year.”

“I am sorry,” Harry mutters, knowing what that means.

Luna shrugs, “It’s in the past. I prefer to focus on the future.”

Harry smiles again, “Enjoying the girl’s whimsical tone of voice. “What are you talking about?” Hermione asks, her voice rising in tone.

Harry turns to face her, “We are talking about the Thestrals.” He reaches out a hand, running it down the skeletal spine of the creature once more.

“Harry, there is nothing there.” Hermione states. “What are you—“

Harry cuts her off, voice a little colder than he intended. “They can only be seen by those who have witnessed death, Hermione. So no, you cannot see them.”

Hermione’s eyes widen and she looks between Harry and Luna. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Harry shakes his head, “It is of no consequence. You didn’t know.”

He turns back to Luna, “What year are you in, Luna? Ravenclaw, right?”

She nods, her focus remaining on the Thestral. “This will be my third year. I am one behind you. And yes, I am indeed an eagle.”

Harry nods, “It is nice to meet you, Luna.”

“You too, Harry Potter,” she says brightly.

Ron interrupts their conversation a moment later, “What do you mean you are an eagle? Aren’t you a raven?”

Harry shakes his head, beginning to speak before Hermione enters what he has dubbed ‘lecture mode.’ “No, Ron. The animal of House Ravenclaw, as strange as it seems, is an eagle, not a raven.”

Hermione nods, her eyes looking directly at Harry. Harry looks at her, meeting her eyes. He shrugs at her unasked question, knowing that she has noticed his different attitude and more knowledgable responses.

They arrive at the school not much later and the Thestral-drawn carriages move away from them.

Harry walks side by side with his friends to the entrance to the Great Hall, nodding in greeting to Alicia and Angelina. Katie walks at their side and Harry smiles slightly at her. Before he can enter the hall, he hears a voice and sighs, “Potter!”

He turns around to see Professor Snape fast approaching him, black cloak fluttering in the wind. He sees Malfoy just behind him, smirking. Though Harry grins and gestures to his right cheek where a red mark is still visible. “With me now, Potter.”

Harry sighs, following Snape away from the doors to the Great Hall. He can feel the eyes of his friends on him as he follows the man to a more secluded area. “What is this I hear about you attacking Mister Malfoy, Potter? Not only did you attack him, but you also did so in a manner not befitting of any wizard. You are not a muggle so do not act like one.”

Harry looks down, “Sorry, Professor.”

“Would you like to give me an explanation? I would love to dock points from Gryffindor before the year begins so for your sake, this better be good.”

Harry shakes his head, “No explanation, Professor.”

Snape sneers, “Fine. 10 points from Gryffindor for acting in such a way and detention tomorrow night.”

Harry nods, clenching his hands into fists. “Yes, Professor.”

He turns to leave but Snape stops him, “I know that Malfoy likely said something to get you to act in such a way and this is your chance to convince me that I should not punish you. I will ask you again. What did he tell you?”

Harry shakes his head, “It is of no consequence, Professor. I do not want to bother you with such childish altercations.”

Snape shakes his head, “You Gryffindors and your honor…” he mutters. “I just offered for the third time to give you a way out of punishment and you refuse. You are beginning to make me think you attacked him merely because you wanted to.”

Harry sighs, “He did say something to me, Professor. But I do not feel it appropriate to share.”

“Why is that?”

“Because he already felt the consequences of his words. I see no point in bringing them up again.” Harry states calmly.

Snape sneers again, “Fine. Your detention will be tomorrow after dinner. Do not be late.”

Harry nods, “I will not be, sir.”

He turns to walk away before pausing, “I will tell you this, Professor. Malfoy crossed a line. He said something that I will never accept.”

Snape cocks his head, “What, did he mock you?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, Professor. He seemed to think it funny to mock my lack of parents; specifically a mother.”

Snape’s eyes narrow, “He did what?”

Harry shakes his head, “You heard me, Professor. But just so we are clear, I will never tolerate anyone speaking negatively about my parents. My mother and father died to protect me so the least I can do is protect their memories.”

Snape doesn’t respond and Harry walks back toward the Great Hall. He could have sworn he hears Snape mutter, “10 points to Gryffindor,” as he rounds a corner and walks to the Great Hall.

He enters the Great Hall just as cries of dismay fill the air. He settles himself next to a fuming Ron and asks Hermione, “What’s going on?”

She smiles slightly, “Headmaster Dumbledore just announced that there will not be any Quidditch this year.”

Harry’s mouth falls open, “No Quidditch? What? Why?”

She shrugs, gesturing to where Dumbledore stands. “I have a feeling he is about to tell us.”

Harry nods and like the rest of the occupants of the hall, he falls silent. “I know, I know, quite a disappointing loss. Allow me to explain.” Dumbledore states. “I am delighted to announce that this September, Hogwarts—.”

He is interrupted when the doors to the Great Hall slam open and a man walks in. He carries a large wooden stick and one of his eyes darts around the room erratically. A brief flash of lightning better illuminates the man’s features, revealing charred skin.

The man walks down the middle of the hall, shaking hands with Dumbledore before moving off to stand in one corner of the room. “That’s Mad-Eye Moody!” Hermione exclaims.

Harry nods, having recognized the man himself. Dumbledore coughs, “Allo me a brief reprieve from my announcement to introduce to you all the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody.”

There is light applause from the hall before Dumbledore continues. “Yes, yes. Welcome, Professor Moody. Now, back to the announcement.” He pauses for a moment, eyes twinkling in the light coming from the overhead candles. “Hogwarts has been given the honor of hosting a very exciting event in the coming months, an event that has not been held in over a century. It is to my great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts over this year.”

Gasps of surprise and shock fill the hall and Harry mutters to himself, “So that is what Malfoy meant. His father must have told him already…”

Hermione gives him a funny look but before she can question him, Dumbledore begins to speak, “The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago between the three largest wizarding schools in Europe: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected from each school, and the three champions competed in three magical, and harrowing tasks. The three schools took turns hosting the tournament every five years and it was largely considered a perfect way to create inter-school ties. That is until the death toll became too high and the tournament seised to occur.”

“There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament in a way that would not cause loss of life, but none of these attempts were successful. However, the departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have, with the help of many, found a way to reinstate the tournaments with minimal risk to the champions.”

Harry begins to tune out all that is happening around him, a feeling of elation swelling within him. _I might finally get a year of peace_.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining here for the better part of this year. I will provide you all more information over the coming weeks before the arrival of these prodigious schools from around the world. I trust that all of you will be on your utmost behavior when these esteemed guests arrive."

They set off for bed, the entire school body charged with excitement and anticipation for the year to come.

* * *

**A/N.**

** If you do not like this story, there is no need for a rude review. Just leave. Any negative review will be ignored.  **

**This does not accurately represent the chapter length of this story. As the first chapter, it is far longer than the average chapter will be.**

**I am sure some of you dislike the dark nature of this story and I understand that. There is an explanation for the vision Harry had and the dark cause of death of the Death Eater. All will be explained in time.**

**Yes, Llvermorny. I get that there is little interest in me including such an entirely unknown quantity but I hope that you all will provide it a chance. I want to explore a different possibility that will allow a more varied cast of characters. I personally wish that JK Rowling addressed something like this herself. I think it would have provided a breath of fresh air, if you will.**

**Also, I apologize for the slightly repetitive nature of this chapter. I wanted to fit all ‘pre-Hogwarts’ material into this chapter so the next can begin to focus on the more interesting stuff…(:**

**Let me know what you think! This story will soon greatly differ from canon. The ‘vision’ Harry saw will slowly begin to address a very important part of this story. There are going to be some dark/horror parts to this story. Harry will eventually begin to push the boundaries of morality (just a warning). This is not your typical love story but the romance will (eventually) play a prominent role.**

**I will not be writing Fleur’s dialogue with any sort of weird accent. The translation convention is going to make my life easier. Besides, I have never liked reading dialogue from Fleur where it is like, “Oui, Ze (The) students at Beauxbatons ‘ave (have) very…” You get my point. I will not be doing that. It is pointless to me. I am writing this story in English as it is my first language and I have no plan to write in this manner. You all know she has an accent. Just take that into account.**

**In my story, Fleur will be played by Emilie de Ravin. I have nothing against Clémence Poésy but personally picture Emilie as Fleur. (You can view her on the cover photo of this story if you do not want to look her up).**

**Also, this is a slow burn and will not immediately be Harry/Fleur.**

**I apologize for the length of this author’s note. This is the first chapter so it will have a longer note than the other chapters.**

**If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I will answer what I can without spoiling the future of this story.**


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

As Harry sits up in his bed, his eyes travel to the window across the room from him. The sky is still dark as he climbs out of bed, picking up his wand and selecting a book from his trunk. He places his glasses on his nose, briefly running a hand through his dark curls. He settles himself down on the end of his bed, raising his wand and muttering, _“Lumos._ ”

His wand releases a dim light, allowing him to see the pages of the yellowing book. The words are written in an older dialect of English, making him have to work to understand what is being said.

Soon the sun peaks over the horizon, sending enough light into the dorm that Harry stops using his wand and places it in his sleeve. He places the book back in the trunk a moment later and selects a new pair of robes to put on.

He changes quickly and grabs his textbooks for the fourth year, exiting the dorm and walking out of Gryffindor tower. He sees a group of first-year Gryffindors, watching as they point at him as he approaches. He dips his head slightly, ignoring the smiles they give him.

He reaches the Great Hall a few moments later and walks over to the Gryffindor table, settling himself down at one end of the table. He places one of the textbooks down and grabs a piece of toast from a platter in front of him.

Harry eats in silence, focused entirely on the Transfiguration textbook. It is an interesting read as it discusses the necessary elements of the subject and analyzes the best ways of learning it.

When he finishes eating, he shrinks his textbooks and places them in his pockets. He walks out of the Great Hall, somewhat surprised to have not seen Hermione. From what he can recall, she is usually up hours before him and Ron.

He walks to the staircases, sighing when the stairs he wants to go up move away from him. Harry waits for his opportunity and then jumps onto the moving stairs as they pass by him.

He soon reaches his destination and knocks on the door. Professor McGonagall opens the door a moment later, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Yes, Mister Potter?”

“I was hoping you could spare a moment of your time to speak with me about my classes for this term,” Harry states confidently.

McGonagall nods, “Of course. Come in.”

Harry follows her into her office, sitting down in a chair in front of him. She offers him a pot of tea and he accepts it, pouring himself a small mug. “So. What can I help you with, Mister Potter?”

Harry leans back a bit, keeping his hands on the mug of tea to keep them warm. “I have decided that I want to switch up my classes a bit. I want to do what is best for my education and for my future.”

McGonagall nods in approval. “I am glad to hear that, Mister Potter. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever come around. Which classes do you want to take? I assume you are aware that you will have to pass the end-of-year tests from last semester for each class that you wish to enter.”

Harry nods, “I am aware and I am prepared.” He says confidently. “I want to drop Divination and take Study of Ancient Runes instead.”

McGonagall nods, writing a note on a slip of paper. “Anything else?”

Harry nods, a somewhat forlorn expression on his face. “I also want to drop Care of Magical Creatures.”

McGonagall looks up at him, “I am sure that Professor Hagrid will understand your decision, Mister Potter. He will realize that you are doing what is best for your future.”

Harry nods, “I know. I still feel bad about it. I do not want to hurt him.”

McGonagall’s lips turn up slightly, showing the barest hints of a smile, “You continue to impress me. Now, which elective will you take in its place?”

Harry takes another moment to collect himself before responding. “Arithmancy.”

McGonagall sighs, “Are you sure? Because of what you are learning in that class, it will be extremely difficult for you to just jump into the fourth year material.”

Harry nods, a small smile appearing on his face. “That won’t be a problem. Am I correct when I say that Arithmancy involves a great deal of memorizing?”

McGonagall nods, “That is correct.”

Harry nods, “Then I will be fine. Besides, I spent the entire summer studying. I am pretty sure I will be okay.”

McGonagall looks at him for a long moment, “I like this new confidence, Mister Potter. I hope it is not misplaced.” Harry nods. “I will inform Professor Babbling and Professor Vector. They will contact you with a time for taking last year’s test and if you pass, you will be granted admission to the classes this year.”

Harry nods, “Thank you, Professor.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Harry grins again, allowing a look of accomplishment to appear on his face. “I would like to be given more advanced work in Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration.”

McGonagall shakes her head immediately, “Mister Potter, I have yet to see any sign that you would be able to handle that. I am not sure why you are all of a sudden so caring about your education, but your past work does not give me a good enough indication that you would be suited for more advanced work.”

Harry nods, “I understand, Professor. I will work to prove you wrong. Would you mind informing Professor Moody and Professor Flitwick that I want to prove myself worthy of taking the honors version of their classes as well?”

McGonagall reaches up with one hand to run her palm over her forehead, “I will do that, Mister Potter. But I promise nothing. It will be up to them if they want to give you more advanced lessons. I am willing to grant you access to the honors Transfiguration class after I see you perform adequately. I do not know if they will. Professor Flitwick, more than likely, will be more than happy to do that for you.”

“However, Professor Moody has very high expectations. He is not one who will let you slip by.” McGonagall states. “And I hate to say this, but if you are granted access to the honors classes for Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration, you likely will not have time for Quidditch. Even though there will not be any official games, the Quidditch captains for each house have already submitted a request to hold an unofficial, single-elimination tournament over the next month before the other schools arrive.”

Harry sighs, “I had a feeling that will be the case and while it will disappoint me to not be able to play, I am willing to sacrifice Quidditch if it will aid me in the future.”

McGonagall sighs, “Alright, Mister Potter. I will inform Professors Flitwick and Moody. I am curious to see how you do on the tests for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. They are not easy classes. You will also need to purchase textbooks for the new electives you want to take.”

“I already have them, Professor. I bought them at the start of summer to prepare for this year.” Harry smiles, taking another sip of tea before saying. “I promise will not disappoint you, Professor.”

He rises to his feet, preparing to exit the room. He reaches the door but stops when McGonagall says, “Your mother would be very proud of you, Mister Potter.”

Harry looks back at her, nodding softly before exiting the room. He gently closes the heavy wooden door behind himself, walking over to lean against one stone wall. He slides down the wall, his head in his hands.

One sob rocks his body as he attempts to picture his mother. He fails. The only images he has of her in his head are from the Mirror of Erised and the photo album that Hagrid gave him. _I love you, mom._

He rises to his feet and brushes off his robes, walking back through the hallways of the school until he reaches the Great Hall. Unlike earlier, the hall is now bustling with activity. The sound of chatter fills his ears as he makes his way to where Ron and Hermione sit. Ginny sits across from them talking to another girl whose name Harry does not know.

“I am totally going to enter,” Ron says. “Can you imagine? The glory and money would set me up nicely!”

Harry smiles slightly when Hermione retorts, “Ron, how do you plan to win the tournament when _I_ was the one writing your essays for you because you couldn’t do them. Hmm? I do not want to see you be an idiot and think you can win.”

Ron glares at the bushy-haired girl. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, ‘mione.”

Hermione sighs, “I just do not want to see you injured, Ron. Can’t you see that?”

Ron goes to respond but Harry interrupts them. He sits down, Hermione and Ron both turning to look at him. “Where were you, mate? I woke up and your bed was empty.”

Harry shrugs, “I have been getting up early all summer. I didn’t see a reason to stop now.”

Hermione’s eyes narrow, “Where were you?” She obviously noticed that Harry avoided the question.

“I had to speak with Professor McGonagall about a few things. I was in her office,” Harry responds.

Silence falls as Harry bites into an apple. He reaches into his back pocket, removing his Transfiguration textbook and opening it to the page he is on.

He feels Ron watching him strangely as he flips through the pages, holding his apple in his other hand.

He looks up a few minutes later to Hermione speaking, “Harry?”

“Yes?” He asks. Hermione goes to ask a question but is interrupted when Colin Creevey comes up to Harry and taps his shoulder, “Hi, Harry!” He exclaims.

Harry sighs, “What can I help you with, Colin?”

The boy smiles, “Professor Dumbledore has asked me to relay a message for him. He wants to see you in his office after breakfast.”

_I do not know what to think about Dumbledore right now. He should have done more about Sirius, but then again, I do not even know what he could have done._

Harry turns to look at the head table and sees Dumbledore incline his head at him, a small smile appearing on his face. Harry nods back at him and then turns to Colin, “Thank you.”

The boy nods, “No problem, Harry!”

A cling comes from the head table and everyone in the hall turns to look as Dumbledore rises to his feet. “I hope now that we have all had a good rest and a good meal that you will lend me your ears for a brief moment.”

Silence falls over the hall as Dumbledore continues, “I mentioned that I would be providing more information about the tournament over the coming weeks. Well, I have an announcement to make regarding the tournament. Due to safety concerns and the ever-present risks presented by a magical tournament such as this, no student under the age of seventeen will be permitted to put their name into the Goblet of Fire.”

Complaints sound throughout the hall, none louder than the Weasley twins and Ron. “That’s rubbish!” Ron yells.

Hermione slams her fist against Ron’s shoulder and he falls silent, looking subdued. “Yes, yes, I know. Many of you think this rule is being unfair. I am inclined to think that I would agree, were I your age. However, the dangers presented by this tournament are not to be underestimated. Yes, it is _safer_ than it once was but that does not mean that it is actually safe. I cannot willingly risk your lives.”

More complaints ring out, though far fewer than there were mere moments before. “Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will both me following this same rule. This is not a rule that I make lightly. Now, get ready for your classes. Chop, chop.”

Chatter breaks out across the hall and Harry can already see the Weasley twins plotting a way around the rule.

Harry rises to his feet, “I’ll see the two of you at History of Magic. I need to go meet Dumbledore.”

Hermione and Ron nod, both standing off and walking toward the massive double doors toward one end of the hall.

Harry turns and sees Dumbledore gesturing for him to follow him and he does, walking toward the wizard. Dumbledore smiles, “Did you have a pleasant summer, Harry?”

Harry nods, “Can’t complain, Sir. How about you?”

Dumbledore nods, “It was as expected.”

Harry nods and follows the Headmaster out of the hall. The two walk in silence until they reach Dumbledore’s office. The Gargoyle moves of its own accord as Dumbledore approaches it, no password needing to be spoken.

They enter the office and Harry pauses to reach out a hand toward Fawkes where he sits on his stand. His hand brushes against the phoenix’s beak and he rears back, a cry leaving his lips as he vanishes in a flash of flames. Where he vanished from, a single feather remains.

Harry pulls his hand back for a moment, looking uncertain. Dumbledore’s eyes are locked on where Fawkes vanished for a moment before he turns to face Harry. “Ah, don’t worry about Fawkes, Harry. He likes to be dramatic.”

“But sir, the feather…” Harry hesitates. “I thought that phoenixes rarely ever shed feathers.”

Dumbledore nods slowly and he walks to where the fallen feather lies. “It seems as though Fawkes had another feather to give. Though I must admit, I didn’t think he did. He hasn’t given a feather in over twenty years.” The Headmaster twirls the feather in his hand for a moment longer before walking over to his desk and sitting down.

“Please, have a seat, my boy.”

Harry does as he is told, settling himself into the chair in front of the desk. Dumbledore leans forward, “So, my boy. I hear you want to enter Arithmancy and the Study of Ancient Runes.”

Harry nods, “Yes sir. I think that they might prove to be more beneficial in the long run.”

Dumbledore nods, “That is good thinking, Harry. What brought you to that conclusion?”

“Well, sir, I do not believe that Divination will help me at all for the future and I do not think Care of Magical Creatures will either,” Harry says with a shrug.

Dumbledore nods, “Good reasoning, and I support your decision. Divination is not for everyone. Hagrid has asked me to relay his understanding of your decision. He asked me to tell you that, ‘He will miss you at his classes but he understands the decision is based on what you will need in the future. He hopes you will still make time to visit him.’”

Harry nods, “Of course I will still visit him. I wouldn’t just leave him up to dry.”

Dumbledore nods, “I am glad to hear it. You mean a great deal to our dear Hagrid.”

Harry smiles softly, “And he means a great deal to me.”

A silence falls over the room for a moment before Dumbledore speaks again, “And Professor McGonagall has also informed me that you want to attempt to take honors Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Transfiguration. Are you sure, Harry?”

Harry nods, “I am sure, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore leans forward slightly, “In the history of Hogwarts, only nine other students have taken more than one honors class and of those nine, only three of them took three. I cannot stress enough how much more difficult these classes will become if you choose to make this decision. You will lose virtually all of your free time during the day.”

Harry nods, “I am aware of the cost of my decision, Headmaster. I spent the entire summer preparing. I am ready.”

Dumbledore nods, “That has yet to be seen, my boy. Professor Flitwick has agreed to track your progress and decide from there on what he wants to do. Professor Moody says that it will take a great deal of hard work to convince him. He wasn’t overly high on the idea but he did not immediately deny it, either.”

Harry nods, “I understand, Professor. I am also going to submit my official resignation from my position on the Quidditch team. I cannot afford to use that time on a sport.”

Dumbledore nods, “I accept the resignation. I am sure that Miss Johnson will understand your decision.”

“Angelina got named captain?” Harry asks, a small smile appearing on his face. “She will have a tough time filling Oliver’s shoes but if anyone can do it, it is her.”

Dumbledore nods, “I am glad to hear it. Now, I have one other quick thing to ask you you can spare the time. I would write a note for Professor Binns, though I think we both know that you will not need it.”

Harry nods, “Go ahead, Headmaster.”

“I want to ask you this and please answer honestly.” Harry nods. “Were you considering entering the tournament before I announced the age restriction?”

Harry immediately shakes his head, “Not even remotely, Headmaster. The moment you announced it, I was actually looking forward to a year where the attention would be on someone other than myself.”

“That warms my old heart, my boy. I am glad to hear that.” Dumbledore says. “Well, Harry. That is all I needed to speak with you about. You may go.”   
Harry nods, “Thank you, Headmaster.”

He rises to his feet and walks toward the door. “Oh, my boy. This belongs to you.” Harry turns to see Dumbledore holding the feather.

“Sir? Couldn’t that be used to create another wand?”

“Yes, it probably could. But as you well know, there are already two wands with feathers from Fawkes. You know who has the other one. I do not believe we need a third.”

Harry nods, “That makes sense.” He walks forward and gingerly takes the feather from his grasp. The feather feels like a warm flame against his fingers and Harry has to hide a grimace at the slight burning sensation he feels. He quickly places the feather in a small pocket of his robes, sending a forced smile at the headmaster. “Thank you, sir.”

Dumbledore nods, a small smile appearing on his face. “Think nothing of it, my boy. Thank you for not considering the tournament. I do not believe my old heart could survive that.”

Harry chuckles softly, “I am sure you would be fine, sir.”

Dumbledore just smiles again, “Best be off, now.”

Harry nods, “Have a good day, sir.”

He walks down the spiral staircase, the smile falling off his face. _When he acts like that, I want so badly to trust him. He is either as trustworthy as I would like to believe he is, or he is an extremely talented actor._

He quickly makes his way toward the History of Magic classroom, slipping into the room as Professor Binns’ voice fills his ears. He slips through the classroom, settling himself down at the desk to Hermione’s right. Ron is sitting just ahead of him.

He pulls out his textbooks, settling them on his desk and reaching for his Herbology textbook. Harry has never liked the subject and if it wasn’t a core class, he would have dropped it in the third year. And yet he needs to get good grades in it in order to accomplish what he wants.

He pauses for a moment, the textbook held open by his right hand. He found himself glancing over at Hermione where she sits and sees her already looking at him strangely. “Later,” he mouths.

She nods slightly and turns back to a sheet of paper, quill in hand. Harry turns his full focus to the textbook, completely shutting out the droning voice of Professor Binns. The ghost never asks questions or even acknowledges the presence of any students.

The rest of the class passes rather uneventfully and Harry, Ron, and Hermione walk out side by side in the direction of the Great Hall for lunch. Hermione immediately walks to his side and says, “Well?”

Harry sighs, “What is it you want to know, Hermione?”

“You have changed, Harry. I am merely wondering what to expect from you now.” Hermione states matter-of-factly.

“She’s right, mate. You always have your nose buried in a _book._ ” Ron says the word ‘book’ as though it is Voldemort’s name, shuddering slightly.

Harry sighs, “I have not changed that much, Hermione. I merely care more about my education. I am tired of being unprepared for every situation that arises. I do not want to have to rely on luck or on others to save me.”

Hermione nods slowly, “That does make sense. Is there anything you need my help with? In terms of studying, I mean.”

Harry shakes his head, “Not at the moment, no. Thank you for the offer though, Hermione.”

The girl nods, “You need only ask.”

Harry nods, “I know.”

They reach the Great Hall moments later, Ron immediately bustling over to find a seat, grabbing a plate. Harry and Hermione walk more slowly and Harry pauses to smile at Luna when she walks slowly past him. _Her choice of attire is certainly…unique._

“Hello, Luna. How are you today?” Harry asks pleasantly.

Luna turns to face him, her out glimmering in the light of the sun streaming through the windows. “Hello, Harry. I am fine, thank you.” Her dreamy voice makes Harry smile again. “The Nargles seem to find it funny to continuously steal my things.”

Harry’s smile falls off his face, and he frowns, “Luna, are people stealing things from you?”

Luna shrugs, “Maybe they are, maybe they are not. Either way, none of it is important.”

Harry sighs, “Luna, why haven’t you reported that to Professor Flitwick? I am sure he would be able to help you.”

Luna shakes her head, “Thank you for the advice, Harry, but I really must be going now.”

Harry watches the girl walk away, still frowning. “A little off her rocker, isn’t she?” Hermione asks.

Harry shoots her an angered look before turning and walking toward where Ron sits. He settles himself down and grabs a plate, piling on a few food items. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his Potions textbook, already dreading the upcoming afternoon. Harry actually likes Potions. He finds it intriguing to create various powerful potions through the combination of ingredients but Snape sucks out all possible enjoyment he could have for the subject.

Hermione sits down a moment later, leaning in to whisper, “I am sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was more just speaking to myself.”

Harry doesn’t respond for a moment before saying, “I do not care what you think about her, Hermione, and it isn’t like I can control that, but please, do not insult her around me.”

“What has made you so protective of her, Harry? Didn’t you just meet her?” Hermione questions softly.

Harry shrugs, “I think she is a kindred spirit. She obviously suffered a great deal and she could see the Thestrals. I don’t know…I just kind of feel a need to protect her.”

Hermione nods, “I think I see what you are getting at, Harry. But you cannot deny that she is strange.”

Harry sighs, “Hermione, to many people, you are strange. I will not deny that she is abnormal, but I cannot help but think that this facade of hers is hiding something.”

“You think she is faking this dreamy personality?” Hermione questions, surprised.

Harry shakes his head, “Faking it? No. I think that it is truthfully part of who she is, but I also think she over-exaggerates it as a way to protect herself. I think it is a way for her to maintain a bubble of comfort around herself.”

He turns back to his textbook, holding a fork in his right hand to eat at the same time. “Potter!”

He sighs again, turning to face an angry Angelina as she stalks toward him. “Oh, here we go,” he mutters.

Ron manages to stop eating for a moment to watch Angelina approach. Harry places his book down and rises to his feet, meeting Angelina’s eyes. “I am sorry, Angelina.”

The dark-skinned girl pauses at the sincerity in his tone, stopping a few feet from him. “As much as it pains me to say this, I understand your decision, Harry.”

Harry nods, “Thank you, Angelina. I am glad they chose you for captain. There isn’t anyone better to follow in Wood’s footsteps.”

The girl’s lips turn up slightly, “The games this year do not even matter, so it isn’t that much of a loss, I guess.” Harry can tell that she doesn’t believe that. “Any chance you will be back next year?”

Harry sighs, running a hand through his dark curls. “To be honest, I am not sure. It really depends on how things play out.”

Silence falls for a few moments before Angelina sighs again and holds out a hand. “It has been an honor, Harry. Good luck.”

Harry nods, “Thank you, Angelina. I am glad you understand my decision. I trust that you know that I would not make such a decision lightly.”

“I know. That is the main reason I am so accepting of this. Don’t get me wrong, I am pissed. But I cannot be mad at you for doing what is best for your future.”

Harry takes her hand in his and they shake for a moment. Then, Angelina turns and walks away. “What was that about?” Ron asks immediately.

Harry settles himself back down on the bench of the table and he can feel eyes on him from all around the room. “I resigned,” he states simply.

Ron looks at him for a moment, “You…resigned from the Quidditch team?”

Harry slowly nods, “Yes, Ron.”

“Why, mate? Why the bloody hell would you do that?” He demands, seemingly somewhat angry.

Harry shrugs, “I have more important things to focus on, Besides, the games this year barely count for anything and do not count toward the House Cup. I see no reason to waste my time competing in scrimmages.”

Ron continues to glare at him, fork clench tightly in his right hand. “What exactly is it that you think is more important than Quidditch?” He questions softly.

Harry shrugs, carefully thinking of a response that will not further anger the redhead. “My future, Ron. I do not know about you, but I would like to have a future to look forward to after I graduate. And for that, I need to excel while I am here.”

Ron doesn’t respond and goes back to his food, furiously shoveling more food into his mouth. “We get it, Harry.” He hears and finds both twins looking at him. “We may not like it, but it is a decision that makes more sense than we would care to admit.”

Harry nods in thanks to them before going back to his food. The rest of the meal passes in silence and then the fourth year Gryffindor’s set off for Potions. As they near the classroom deep in the dungeons of Hogwarts, some Slytherins come into view. The Lions and Snakes ignore each other, choosing to pretend that the other does not exist.

They reach the classroom and all find desks across the room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione find desks on the right side of the classroom with the other Gryffindors. Harry takes the Potions textbook and his notebook out of his back pocket and places them on the desk. The room is dark and silent, with no sign of Snape.

Then, the man enters from the back of the classroom, the door slamming shut behind him. “Books and notes away.” He orders, walking to the board at the front of the class.

Harry sighs, doing as they are told. The class is silent once everyone has their books away and Snape begins to glance around the room. “Longbottom, I do believe I said books away, not out.”

Neville blushes and quickly slips his textbook into his lap before slipping it into his bag. “Mister Malfoy, what condition could be remedied by a calming drought?” Snape asks.

The silver-haired boy smirks and answers, “Shock, Professor.”

Snape nods, “Correct. Ten points to Slytherin.”

He stalks across the room, coming to a stop before Ron’s desk, “Mister Weasley, what type of potion is Weedosoros?”

Ron turns red, “I-I don’t know, sir.”

The man sneers, turning to look at Harry, “What about you, _Mister Potter?_ Can you answer the question?”

Harry nods, “Yes, Professor. Weedosoros is a type of poison.”

Snape’s eyes narrow slightly, obviously searching for any way to deduct points for the answer. “Alright.” The man states. “What type of potion does Galpalott’s Third Law pertain to?”

Harry’s eyes narrow, “Antidotes, Professor.”

Snape pauses, looking at Harry for a long moment before turning and walking toward the board at the front of the class. “You heard him.” Snape barks. “Weedosoros is a kind of poison. And that is what we shall be brewing today. The instructions are on the board. Begin.”

Harry instantly begins to get together the ingredients he will need, not even glancing up at the board. He expertly sets the cauldron to a simmer, prepping his ingredients exactly as he learned. He spends the most time carefully prepping the leaves of _Viriditas Doloream_ , careful to not touch the pointed tips of the leaves.

_It is ridiculous that Snape doesn’t even warn anyone how deadly these leaves are. They are called the “Weed of Sorrows’ for a reason._

He gets out his knife and gently cuts out the middle of the leaf, carefully picking up the poisonous tipped ends of the leaves. He drops them into the cauldron, adding the other ingredients a moment later. He begins to stir, twice clockwise, thrice counter-clockwise. Again and again, as the dark maroon liquid begins to release an odorless black steam.

Harry glances around the classroom, noticing that only a few other students have the black steam that should be rising as described in the textbook. Hermione, a silver-haired Slytherin girl, and himself.

Harry glances at Hermione, noticing that she is intently glancing through the pages of her textbook.

Harry just continues to stir, allowing himself to relax and his mind to wander. His eyes dart around the classroom for a moment, meeting the silver-haired Slytherin’s eyes. The girl meets his eyes briefly before returning to her potion.

Harry does the same. He finishes the potion second, only after the Slytherin girl. He places a sample of it into a vial and writes his name on it, carrying it to the front of the class and placing it on Snape’s desk. The man looks up at him, eyes glancing down to look at his potion.

Harry sees a flicker of surprise in the man’s eyes as he turns and walks back to his desk. He cleans his cauldron and returns the surplus ingredients to where they belong in the classroom. He walks to the door, turning and looking back in. He sees Hermione and Ron both looking at him in confusion. The silver-haired Slytherin walks out past him, her shoulder brushing against his.

Harry briefly catches a glimpse of ice-blue eyes as the girl walks past him before she disappears around a corner. He begins to walk, heading toward the Transfiguration classroom. He arrives before anyone else, selecting a desk toward the front of the classroom.

He is still alone when Professor McGonagall enters the room. He nods in greeting to her, “Good afternoon, Professor.”

She looks a little surprised. “Mister Potter. Shouldn’t you be in potions until 3:00?”

Harry shrugs, “Professor Snape allows those that complete their potion early to leave. I finished and now I am here.”

She nods, “Well, now that you are here, I have a few questions to ask you.”

Harry nods, “Go ahead, Professor.”

“This morning I asked you why you suddenly care so much about your education. You answered, but I could tell it wasn’t a fully truthful answer.”

Harry sighs, “Professor, there is a lot about my life that you do not know and I intend to keep it that way. I mean no offense, but some of my life is not meant to be shared with anyone.”   
McGonagall nods, “I understand that, Mister Potter. And I respect that decision. But I must ask and I fear the answer.”

Harry inclines his head. “I know that in all likelihood you will not truthfully answer, but I have to know. How were you treated during your childhood?”

Harry sighs, “I do not feel comfortable sharing that, Professor. Besides, it is in the past.”

She nods, “I understand.”  
The two are interrupted as Hermione enters the back of the classroom and walks over to sit beside Harry. McGonagall goes back to the papers on her desk as Hermione turns to Harry. “Okay, how did you do that?”

Harry fights back a smile, “Do what?”

She glares at him, “Don’t play innocent with me, Harry. You have never finished a potion before me in all our years at this school. And you almost finished at the same time as _Greengrass_.”

Harry shrugs, “I spent the whole summer studying, Hermione. I already told you that.”

Hermione shakes her head, “I want to believe that but you didn’t even open the textbook or look at the board to complete that potion. And the second question Professor Snape asked you, I didn’t even know the answer to it.”

Harry sighs, “Hermione, do you know what eidetic memory is?”

Her eyes widen, “The ability to recall nearly everything you see with increased precision. You are telling me you have a fully eidetic memory?”

“To put it simply, yes,” Harry says with a nod. “I have always found it easy to memorize things. It wasn’t until this summer that I realized the full extent of what I can do.”

“What can you do?” Hermione asks.

Harry shrugs, “Hand me a random book that you know I couldn’t have read. Not a textbook, a fictional story, a memoir, even a biography.”

She hesitates for a moment before handing him a copy of [1] _Ender’s Game,_ from a different section of her bag _._ Harry opens to a random page and scans it for a few seconds before handing it back. “Page 74,” Harry says shortly.

Hermione flips to the page and nods to him. Harry begins, “ _I didn’t…Then why did you do it?…He had has gang there…So? This excuses anything?…No…Tell me why you kept on kicking him. You had already won…Knocking him down won the fight. I wanted to win all the next ones, too.”_

Hermione closes the book, looking at Harry in shock. “You remembered all of that?”

Harry grins, “Oh, I remembered more than that. I chose to only read the dialogue. I could have read the entire page.”

Hermione continues to look at him for a long moment as other students begin to enter the classroom. Hermione slips the book into her bag, turning to face McGonagall a moment later. A few minutes pass in silence as the classroom fills up. Ron arrives as the clock hits 3:30, panting for breath. “Good afternoon, class. Welcome to your fourth year. We have spent the last three years building the necessary basis off of which to expand your knowledge of Transfiguration. As I am sure many of you are aware, you will have to take your OWLs next year, so I suggest you do your best to learn everything I teach you.”

“Today, as it is the first class of the semester, I want to take the time to teach you all some material that I had not planned to teach.” She taps her wand against the board and notes appear. “Human Transfiguration is one of the most difficult and dangerous aspects of the subject. It requires precise action and perfect timing. Anything going wrong can result in dangerous side effects such as severe injury or, in the most extreme circumstances, even death.”

The class fills with mutters as McGonagall pauses, “If you were to accidentally Transfigure something and want to reverse it, what is the incantation you will say?”

For a moment, no one answers. Harry raises his hand a few seconds later, “Mister Potter.”

“ _Reparifarge_ is the usual spell used to counteract any Transfiguration, Professor. Though it can be ineffective against the spell of a strong enough caster.” Harry states.

McGonagall nods, “Correct. Five points to Gryffindor. I briefly mentioned this back in your second-year class, but I understand that many of you likely didn’t understand the importance of what I was saying.”

She taps her wand on the board again and more notes appear. “As I was just discussing, Human Transfiguration is exceedingly dangerous and should, I repeat, should never be attempted without experienced guidance. Not only is Human Transfiguration dangerous, but it is also highly illegal unless used perfectly within the rules. Am I making myself clear?”

The class all answers in the affirmative. “Good. Now, who can tell me what someone who can turn into an animal at will is called. Miss Brown?”

The girl nods, “An Animagus, Professor.”

“Excellent. Yes, that is correct. As you all know, I am an Animagus myself and my form is a cat. It took me three years of hard work to get the form and I didn’t begin the process until I was twenty-eight years old.” McGonagall says. “I cannot emphasize enough how dangerous this process is. Do not think that you can do it merely because you want to. It isn’t as easy as you would think.”

“The reason that I have decided to spend time on this subject is that some students think it a good idea to attempt things that are not within their capabilities. The Headmaster has asked me to speak with you all about this because he does not want any of you to get hurt. In the past, there have been students who thought it wise to attempt Human Transfiguration. The two of them both ended up in the Hospital Wing for over a week.” McGonagall continues.

Harry cocks his head. _They?_

“Now, for the rest of this class, I want each of you to work on Transfiguring the small cup on your desk into a living creature. In past classes, I had you Transfigure a living creature into a cup, but this is far more difficult. This creature must not be one that could pose any danger to anyone in this class. I suggest you do a small rodent or avian creature. This is, unfortunately, the best practice I can give you for Human Transfiguration as it is far too dangerous for you to practice on one another.”

“You may begin. I will provide the help that I can but this kind of Transfiguration requires you to do the work and not me. Upon completion of your Transfiguration, you may begin working on the essay that will be due later this evening. Eight inches on why Human Transfiguration is so much more difficult than other forms of Transfiguration.”

Harry nods and turns his focus to the golden goblet sitting on the table in front of him. He slides his wand out of his sleeve and closes his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to feel the magical energy flowing through his veins. The power crackling inside his body quiets down, slowing from a rushing river to a dripping stream. He directs his wand at the goblet, directing his magical energy toward it.

As the magic makes contact with the goblet, he pictures a beautiful, grey wolf cub. For a moment after the magic dissipates, nothing happens. But then, a small wolf pup appears on his desk. A mewl leaves the animal’s mouth as its tiny paws shuffle to rise to its feet. It blinks its eyes open, ice-blue orbs finding Harry’s forest-green eyes. Harry smiles, reaching out a hand and gently resting it on the creature’s head.

The wolf leans into his touch, a sound of contentment leaving its body. Harry feels many eyes on himself and looks up. McGonagall is standing just in front of his desk and the whole class is looking at the tiny wolf pup. “Incredible…” McGonagall whispers.

For a moment, the classroom is entirely silent. Then, McGonagall seems to shake herself and says, “Twenty points to Gryffindor. I have never had a student correctly Transfigure a living creature on their first attempt.”

She walks back to the front of the class, “As Mister Potter has so accurately demonstrated, creating a living creature from an inanimate one is not as hard as it may seem. It may seem daunting at first but I promise that once you get the hang of it, you will find it as effortless as turning water into tea.”

Harry smiles and runs his hand down the pup’s back, able to feel its spine through its thin fur. He reaches into his bag and takes out his paper and a quill. “Harry,” Hermione hisses.

He looks up and glances over at her, “Yes?”

“How did you do that?” She looks a little frustrated, her eyes darting between Harry and the wolf.

Harry shrugs, “The main thing with nearly any type of magic is intent, Hermione. That is all I can say.”

Hermione doesn’t respond and turns her focus back to the goblet on her desk. Harry allows himself to zone out, his focus turning to the Human Transfiguration essay. He writes it with half his focus, his quill flying across the page. Time passes rather quickly and soon, Harry hears the bell indicating the end of the period.

He looks up and notices that Hermione’s goblet seems to be stuck halfway between a cup and some form of mammal. His eyes dart around the classroom, noticing that no one has a complete Transfiguration.

Everyone begins to pack their bags, Harry shrinking his books and slipping them into his pocket. He uses one hand to gently pick up the wolf pup, cradling it against his chest. He walks to the front of the classroom and sets his completed essay on McGonagall’s desk. “Wait a moment, Mister Potter.”

He nods, turning to speak to Ron, “I’ll be right behind you, Mate.”

The redhead nods, though Harry can tell that both Ron and Hermione want to speak with him.   
When the classroom is finally empty, McGonagall gestures for him to sit. “Mister Potter, in all my years of teaching, I have never seen anything like that. A complete Transfiguration of an inanimate object into a living creature oftentimes takes weeks to learn. And yet you did it within a minute. You may consider me impressed. A few more performances like that and you might just earn a place in the honor roll for this class.”

Harry nods, his eyes still on the wolf pup in his lap. He looks up at McGonagall a moment later, “Thank you, Professor.”

“May I see it?” She asks, looking at the wolf.

Harry nods and gently hands the pup to the Professor. She takes a few moments to admire the wolf, running a hand down its back and briefly scratching its chin. “This is a perfect Transfiguration, Mister Potter. Flawless. Do you know why Transfiguring an inanimate object into a living creature is so difficult?”

Harry shakes his head, “No, Professor.”

“It isn’t because of the actual Transfiguration. When most people Transfigure a living creature, it is devoid of most motor functions that make it a truly living creature would have. It basically does whatever the caster wants without much of a choice. What you have done is so special because you have created a living creature that is completely self-reliant and capable of decision making.”

Harry nods, “That makes sense. I was wondering why you made it seem like this would be so hard. I remember when we did something similar a few years back.”

McGonagall nods, “Yes. I had you Transfigure a rat into a goblet. That was the basis for what you are doing now.”

Harry nods and silence falls. “Professor, I hope you will forgive me but I need to go to the Great Hall. I have detention after dinner and I would like to eat something first.”

McGonagall’s eyes narrow, “Detention? What for? If you are to be in any honors classes, you must be the perfect role model for other students. That means that you cannot be constantly in detention.”

Harry sighs, “It was nothing, Professor. A small misunderstanding.”

McGonagall sighs, “You may go, Mister Potter. Enjoy your evening and well done.”

Harry smiles, “Thank you, Professor. May I have the wolf back?”

McGonagall nods, “Of course. You are aware that Transfigurations are not permanent, aren’t you?”

Harry grins slightly, “We shall see. It is based on the input of power upon its creation.”   
He turns to walk away but before he can, McGonagall speaks up, “Mister Potter? This essay is perfect, by the way. One of the best I have read.”

He turns to look at her, “You had time to read it all, already? I just turned it in.”  
Her lips twist slightly, “I cannot reveal all of my secrets, Mister Potter.”

Harry laughs, “I understand, Professor. Enjoy your evening.”

* * *

Harry reaches the Great Hall soon after, clutching the wolf pup in one hand. It is asleep, chest rising and falling slowly. He sits down next to Ron, grabbing a plate. He selects a few food items before returning his focus to the wolf in his arms.

“Alright, Mate. How did you do it?” Ron asks.

Harry shrugs, “I already gave my answer to Hermione. Intent. That is all that you need.”

Hermione shakes her head, “No book mentions anything about intent, Harry.”

Harry sighs, “Hermione, you really shouldn’t rely so heavily on a book for your knowledge. Yes, I learned a lot from reading, but I also let myself learn from practical experiments to see what works. Learning isn’t only about reading.”

Hermione shakes her head, returning her focus to her food for a moment. She looks back at him a moment later, “What did Professor McGonagall want?”

Harry shrugs, “She was asking the same questions that you are now. She wanted to know how I knew how to do that Transfiguration so quickly.”

Hermione nods and Harry begins to eat.

When he finishes, he rises to his feet, the wolf still clutched in one hand. “I will be back later. I have detention with Snape.”

He doesn’t give his friends the time to respond and walks away. He makes his way through Hogwarts until he reaches the dungeons. He enters the Potions classroom, seeing Snape sitting at his desk. _Does this man even eat?_

“Good evening, Professor,” he states politely.

The man doesn’t look up. “Good. You are here. Come here, Potter.”

Harry does so, not appreciating the man’s tone. He sits down across from him. “What am I to do tonight, Professor?”

Snape finally looks up from a stack of paper. “Go to the cauldrons over on that corner of the room. Clean them using whatever method works and put them where they belong. You may go once you do that.”

Harry frowns, surprised at the lackadaisical punishment. _I am certainly not complaining, but since when am I allowed to used magic? Usually, he says that I have to clean something without magic. And I am surprised he didn’t mention the pup in my arms._

Harry walks over to the cauldrons, grimacing at the putrid odor rising from them. He takes out his wand and casts _Scourgify_ on each one. The dark metal of each cauldron is clean minutes later and he waves his wand, floating them over to the shelves where they belong. He walks back over to Snape’s desk. “Have a good evening, Professor.”

The man does not respond or even acknowledge his statement and Harry sighs, walking out of the classroom.

* * *

When he reaches the Gryffindor tower, he mutters the password and walks in. He sees the common room filled with people and quietly slips over to the stairs to his dormitory, walking up to them. He takes all of his books out of his pockets and places them where they belong.

He lies down on the bed, the wolf pup curling up on his chest. It raises its little head and looks directly at Harry, ice-blue eyes glimmering in the light of the setting sun. “Hello, little thing,” Harry says, reaching out to run a hand down the creature's head.

The wolf walks across his chest toward him, bumping its head against his own. Harry laughs, “What should I call you?”

The wolf lets out a little yip, tail wagging. “Are you a boy or a girl?”

The wolf yips again, bouncing off of his chest. It looks up at him, blue eyes meeting his own. Harry just laughs again, smiling brightly at the little creature. Then, his eyes narrow. The wolf’s form flickers, a brief image of a golden goblet appearing. “No,” Harry says sadly. “I am sorry, little one. I thought I could keep you here.”

The wolf yips sadly, its tail wagging slowly as its tongue hangs out of its mouth. Its form begins to flicker more consistently, the golden goblet appearing more often. Harry reaches down and the wolf runs its tongue across his palm. One last whine leaves the pup’s mouth and then it is gone, leaving only an inanimate goblet.

Harry sighs, shaking his head sadly. _I liked that little wolf._

He lies still for a moment before remembering something. He shakes the pocket of his robe, allowing the phoenix feather to flutter out onto the bed. Harry looks at it carefully, remembering the way it burned him the last time he touched it.

After a brief moment of hesitation, he reaches down and picks it up. It immediately begins to burn again but Harry fights through it. He looks at the feather, wondering why it hurts him.

Then, blue lines of ice begin to cover the feather, changing the beautiful bright red feather to a cool blue. “What?” Harry mutters out loud.

The feather in his hand flashes brightly for a long moment before disintegrating into shards of blue ash. Harry backs away and watches as the ashes rise up into the air, forming a small symbol.

Before Harry can contemplate what he is seeing, the ashes flash brightly again and fall to the bed as a red liquid. “What the fuck?” Harry says, gently reaching out a finger toward the red-stained bed cover.

The moment his hand gets close to the red liquid, it swirls up around his hand. It creates a band of red liquid around his wrist, continuously flowing in a never-ending loop. Then, the liquid hardens, tightening against his skin.

A hiss of pain leaves Harry’s lips at the freezing, burning he feels as the liquid continues to tighten. Harry grabs his wrist, muffling a scream of pain.

Then, as quickly as it came, the pain stops and the red band vanishes, seemingly sinking into his skin.

Harry breathes heavily, his eyes darting around the room. Before he can react, his eyes fall closed and his body collapses against his bed. His eyes open for a brief second, green orbs glimmering. And, for a brief moment, there is a flash of red in his eyes.

* * *

**A/N.**

**Harry is much smarter in this story than he was in canon. He is more aware of what is going on.**

**There will be much more background on what Harry is experiencing with the blood. It is the main aspect of this story.**

**Here is chapter two. Another icebreaker, if you will. Some more world-building. If it isn't clear by now, there is a very mysterious aspect to this story.**

**The potion brewed in the class today was based on one found in canon. And the ingredient is thought to be part of the potion. The words used in this story have meaning. 'Viriditas' means "Weed" and 'Doloream' is based on the Latin word for sorrow, "Dolorem."**

**The Transfiguration class was something that I found enjoyable to write. It was interesting to create a new lesson. I am aware that the class I created may have seemed somewhat boring, but it is necessary to create a story that does not jump around.**

**Honors classes are something that I think could add an interesting dynamic to the school. And before anyone goes asking, the reason geniuses like Hermione wouldn't be able to participate in an honor roll class is because of the rigorous magical strength needed. Honors classes are something that will be more elaborated on later. And Hermione would also have a hard time because she relies so heavily on her book smarts. These classes require outside-the-box thinking.**

**[1]. _Ender's Game_ by Orson Scott Card was published in 1985. I selected this book because of this. Its release date works with the timeline of Harry Potter. **

**Please let me know what you think! I try to answer any questions that are asked but I will not reveal anything detrimental to the future of this story.**


End file.
